


Drunken With the Blood of the Saints

by bubblebangbaby



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Bottom Sakamoto Ryuji, Dom/sub Play, Inappropriate Use of Personas, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Subspace, but here we all are, is this ooc? maybe so, lord help me I'm back on my bullshit, mother harlot (persona series), totally appropriate use of belts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 12:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14425605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblebangbaby/pseuds/bubblebangbaby
Summary: And upon her forehead was a name written, MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH. And I saw the woman drunken with the blood of the saints, and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus: and when I saw her, I wondered with great admiration. --Revelations 17:5-6Ryuji is desperate to be broken; and with Mother Harlot pushing him over the edge, Akira is more than willing to oblige.





	Drunken With the Blood of the Saints

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case someone mentions it: I know that the ever-beloved "You deserve proper punishment" line only comes up when you use the DLC persona Magatsu Izanagi's special attack. I'm taking creative license, though, because I'm iffy about how DLC factors into canon, and, well... "Magatsu Izanagi" just doesn't flow as well in prose as "Mother Harlot".

Akira always says the constant shifts in persona don’t really affect him. It doesn’t matter what creature is taking up real estate in his head at any given time. No matter which mask he wears, he’s still only himself. Right?

It’s never that simple.

What should have been an easy shadow fight turns hard and ugly, drags on and on. When he finally brings down the killing blow, it’s Mother Harlot’s hunger in his eyes and her voice seething in his throat. _You deserve proper punishment._ And then it’s over and there are only ashes left swirling around him, but his blood is still boiling under his skin and in his smile, bubbling lava and the ghost of shredded flesh between his teeth. He tries to calm himself down, but as he turns away, Ryuji’s eyes are the first thing he sees. He’s still sprawled on the floor from a blow that caught him hard and knocked him prone, but he’s _watching_. Skull mask pushed aside and eyes wild, fixed on Akira like he’s not lying knocked flat at all, but fallen prostrate in worship. Like he wants to kneel at Akira’s feet for the rest of his days.

Akira--no, Mother Harlot--no, _Akira._ Akira wants to let him. Wants to _make_ him. The fire in his blood sears hotter.

Back in the attic, they all lean against each other in exhaustion, hug and chat and plan the next excursion before going their separate ways. Akira doesn’t say much. And when he grabs Ryuji’s wrist as he turns to head downstairs, pins him down with a single look, he doesn’t have to say anything. When the door slams with finality, making it clear the last of the team has left, Ryuji falls to his knees again, begging without words. Hungry. Starving. _You deserve proper punishment._

Akira runs both hands through Ryuji’s hair and yanks his head further back. He leans into it, already going pliant, eager to please, groaning in something like relief.

Need swirls in Akira’s gut, and he hears his own—not his own—voice in his head whispering silken things that curl under his skin and around his mind. _Mine mine mine oh yes he’s all mine now he wants it needs it wants you to take him hurt him break him ravage him yes god_. He shudders and tightens his grip in that soft bottle-blonde hair, yanks at it hard enough to sting, and under his hand, Akira can feel his body shiver, tremble. Can see his expression twist into something desperate, needy. His lover, his right hand man, his dearest friend, hungry and begging under his hand without a word from him. God.

Akira slides one hand down his cheek to his mouth, thrusting his thumb between panting, parted lips and runs it lightly over his sharp teeth. Ryuji sighs gratefully and sucks hard and eager, tongue thrusting and swirling against the pad of Akira’s thumb as though it were the head of his cock. Akira growls deep in his throat and pulls his hand away, grabs him by the neck to drag him up for a hard, bruising kiss. Ryuji meets him with equal fire, pressing as close as he can and grabbing onto Akira’s ass for leverage. Akira thrusts his tongue into Ryuji’s mouth hard, again and again, one hand coming up to wrap around his throat until he starts to gasp against his mouth. Akira pulls back to watch his face, not letting go. Ryuji's eyes are wide and eager, even as he starts to choke. And even through his jeans, it’s impossible not to see the outline of his cock pinned against his leg, standing out rock hard. _Take him hurt him ravage him oh yes_ _yes yes…_

“Strip, and bend over the bed,” Akira says, shoving him roughly forward. His voice feels harsh in his throat, ugly-rough and burnt to a crisp.

“Ahh… yessir…” Ryuji grins and rubs his neck slightly before starting to yank his clothes off, stumbling out of them as quickly as he can. It’s so cute, how eager he is to obey, to drink in whatever Akira decides to bring down on him. Naked now, he takes his place by the bed, bending over and spreading his legs just right, those big brown eyes burning with need as he peers over his shoulder.

The sight leaves Akira grinning, feral and possessive. He slithers out of his pants with far more grace than Ryuji had managed, yanking his shirt over his head as well as he stalks over to loom above his victim, his friend. The side of Ryuji’s face is pressed into the duvet and his back is arched, hips canted up and ready. Akira can catch his gaze now, can see the desperation and impatience in his face, the redness blooming across his cheeks and down all the way to his shoulders even as he holds himself admirably still, lip caught between his teeth teasingly.

Akira kneels beside his prone form, still smiling a cheshire cat smile. He runs his hands up and down his boyfriend's long, arched back and bare ass, slow and soft. He drapes himself gently over Ryuji’s body, nuzzling close for a soft moment, only to turn and bite down hard and sudden into the exposed meat of his shoulder. Ryuji cries out in surprise, body going taut against Akira’s. Before he can compose himself, Akira pulls away and smacks hard at his ass, again and again, punishing blows raining down on tender flesh. Ryuji yelps with each smack, and it only spurs Akira on. He finally stops and runs both hands over the now-flushed cheeks, granting him a moment of gentleness, a deliberate contrast to make the upcoming sting worse. Ryuji breathes out his boyfriend’s name, a reverent prayer. Akira echoes him with a soft, desperate moan. _Give him what he wants_ _give him what he wants_ _give him what he's dying for make him break he needs it I need it I need him…_

In one quick motion, Akira grabs both Ryuji's arms and twists them behind his back, holding them tightly in place with one hand. “Now,” he growls, low and harsh, “stay.” There’s a needy little sob from the boy beneath him, and he can’t help but purr in delight. Akira knows well what his lover wants, can practically feel the need to give in pulsing just under that hot, sunkissed skin. It’s such a perfect match for the whispering thoughts spinning out in his head: the need to take him, bruise him, ravage him, leave him broken and exhausted and crying. He leans over and sinks his teeth into the back of his boyfriend's neck, a brutal, instinctive gesture. Ryuji squirms under him and lets out a quivering, high pitched sound that has Akira’s skin tingling and something primal unfurling in the base of his spine. He wants to keep his teeth sunk into his neck and pin him in place, wants to taste sweat and flesh and blood as they fuck. _Not yet, not yet..._

A little snarl of frustration escapes him and he lets go of his hold. Ryuji stays in place, face pressed into the bed and arms locked behind his back. From the look in his eyes, he’s lost in anticipation, aching for what might come down next. Akira can’t wait to oblige. He reaches over for his own discarded pants and pulls the belt out of them, gathers both ends of it in one hand and snaps the loop a couple times for effect. The shudder that runs down Ryuji’s body at the sound brings a mad-eyed grin to his face. It’s Joker’s smile, Harlot’s smile, he can feel it, and some final, anxious part of his consciousness burns away in the heat of it. He leans over him to whisper in his ear, running his nails up and down that sweetly arched spine as he does. “Good boy…”

The low groan and full-body shiver that those two words draw out of him makes Akira purr in hungry delight. He rubs the belt back and forth across Ryuji’s ass, slow and methodical; listens to him moan again. God, but he’s gorgeous like this.

_Crack._

The sound of leather on skin is loud as a gunshot, but it doesn’t cover Ryuji’s sharp hiss of pain.

_Crack. Crack. Crack._

Quick, precise strikes, hard enough to welt and sting but not even close to what he knows the other boy can take. Four neat lines are starting to heat red on that perfect ass. When he pauses to get his bearings, he can hear Ryuji whimpering again, pressing his face into the mattress to muffle the sound. But muting his voice doesn’t hide his bright red ears or the flush creeping across his neck. It doesn’t hide how hard he is, how his cock bounces with each touch, each blow of the belt. Akira can feel his own heart speeding up, his own hardness throbbing just at the sight. “Good boy… so good for me...” he murmurs again, and under him, Ryuji whines and arches his back, pressing closer to him, trying his best to meet and grind against Akira’s hips, begging without words.

God, it’s hard to hold himself back from just taking him right now, burying his cock deep inside him, one hand wrapped hard around his throat as he comes inside him—no, no. Mother Harlot’s laughing in his head again. That’s too easy. Take him apart first.

Akira runs his free hand over his boyfriend’s arms, still clutched as they are behind his back, and lets his fingers trail, soft and light, down his spine. He feels him shiver again at the caress. He rears his arm back again.

_Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack._

He can't stay gentle for long. More bright red lines are blooming across Ryuji's ass and down the sides of his thighs now. He’s still holding the blows back a little, still being careful not to strike the same spot twice. But despite that mercy, Ryuji’s little moans and whimpers are turning now to shuddering sobs with each crack of the belt. Beautiful. So beautiful. Something inside him starts to hum with a deep satisfaction.

 _Crack-crack-crack-crack!_ He slashes precise strikes into his flesh, faster and faster, until his backside is completely painted cherry red and streaked with purple bruises. Akira runs his empty hand slowly over Ryuji’s thighs and ass, watching him tremble helplessly. It must be so painful already. Too bad he’s not done. With the same gentleness as his caresses, he unlinks Ryuji's arms from behind his back and moves them so the trembling boy can hold himself up. God, he’s so pliant, it’s like moving a doll. Hunger curls in Akira’s gut, crackles under his skin. No more holding back. He steps closer and grabs Ryuji by the back of his neck, pressing his face into the mattress, and rains down lash after lash of the belt on his ass. Ryuji yowls and writhes with every blow, but Akira keeps him pinned down, letting him struggle under him like an animal in a trap.

 _Crack crack crackcrackcrackcrack—_ he whips him again and again, fast and hard, until his arm starts to ache and Ryuji is nearly sliding onto the floor, squirming and sobbing incoherently as his legs give out beneath him. Every inch of his ass and upper thighs are stained red now, bloody-bright contrasting lines blooming and spreading beautifully in the places where the edge of the belt had hit hardest. Akira finally lets go of the other boy’s neck and lets the belt fall, grabs him around the waist to keep him from falling too.

Ryuji’s gasping for breath now and struggling to hold himself up, but he digs his fingers into the bed and whines desperately. “God… fff—‘Kira… please more please…” Akira's smile is a line of hungry flame across his face and he reflexively digs his nails into the burning skin of his lover’s thigh at the sound. More, then. Yes, god, _more_.

Akira grabs him by the neck again; drags him up onto the bed. He manhandles him onto his back and climbs atop him, straddling his hips possessively. Ryuji yelps in pain at the scrape of fabric on his inflamed skin, but doesn’t resist. Akira slips one leg between his thighs and slides his hand down to squeeze hard at his abused ass cheek. His love arches against the bed and cries out, high and desperate and wordless. Delicious. Akira grabs his wrists and pins them to the headboard with one hand, raking nails down the curve of his ass with the other hand at the same time, drawing another breathy little scream from him. Those wide, trusting, dark-chocolate eyes are glazed and lost, body arching with the contrast of pain-pleasure-pain, and it’s so, so intoxicating to see. He presses close, buries his face in his neck, and covers the skin there with hard, bruising bites and crushing kisses. The sweet-salty taste of his skin, the smell of his sweat and lingering cologne-scented soap, the feel of his lithe body bucking underneath him, is all just maddening. He bites down on Ryuji’s shoulder, right on the bruise he'd left earlier, and revels in the feel of him squirming, hips thrusting up hard and needy against his own.

He can’t wait any more, he can’t. He grabs a bottle of lube from where it’s wedged between the bed and the wall and begins to slick himself with it. He runs two dripping fingers up and down the clest of Ryuji’s ass, before plunging them into him hard. A low growl boils in his throat as the other boy yelps in surprise and cants his hips up quick, chasing his fingers, silently begging for more. How could he ever not oblige? He hooks Ryuji’s legs over his shoulders, spreading him wide open and lining himself up just so.

He’s so, so hard and it aches, burns deep in his belly. A shudder of pleasure runs down his spine as he rubs his slick cock back and forth across the eager hole, teasing for a moment. Without warning, he grips Ryuji’s hip hard and thrusts into him all at once. He keens, head thrown back, eyes gone glassy and mouth dropping open as Akira rams into him. Ah god, but he’s heaven made flesh. The hungry, high little sounds he’s making, his hands gripping the headboard right where they were placed, the sweet pink flush on his skin and the way he writhes in pain and pleasure—it’s perfection.

He pulls back for a long second, then thrusts in hard again and starts to move properly inside him. And oh, it’s sweet, so sweet, the velvety warmth of Ryuji’s body tight around him, the burning heat of bruised skin against his thighs, the way his back arches, the way he sobs and whines out Akira’s name with every thrust. Unable to resist, Akira leans over to nuzzle at the soft flesh of the thigh that’s draped over his shoulder before sinking his teeth into it hard. Ryuji howls in pain and bucks underneath him, as though to throw him off. _Oh, t_ _hat won’t do._ _Break him._

With a snarl, he shoves Ryuji’s knees up to his chest so that he barely has room to squirm, and lifts his hips up off the bed so he can thrust in even deeper. He lets his nails dig hard into his ass as he does, and Ryuji keeps his white-knuckle, lifeline grip on the headboard and presses back, meeting his hips thrust for thrust. He’s sobbing openly now, and his flushed, tear-stained face is framed so prettily there between his knees, his hard cock leaving a smear of fluid pooling on his belly as it bounces with every deep stroke. Akira loosens his grip on his ass so he can give it a few quick smacks, hard as he can manage from the awkward angle. It’s enough. Ryuji screams, back arching, eyes rolling back again.

One more deep thrust, and Akira stops, buried balls-deep in his boyfriend, savoring the shudder that’s running through the other boy’s body and the way his expression turns suddenly pained, desperate. Without a hint of mercy, he shoves Ryuji’s knees wide apart and reaches down to grab him by the hair with one hand, a wild smile playing on his lips. “You… are going...” he says, punctuating each word with a hard slap across the crying boy’s face, “to wake… the fucking… neighborhood.” The humiliaton doesn’t deter Ryuji in the slightest, only sets him to sobbing harder, begging, pleading, all dignity tossed aside.

“Aaah…! God, ‘Kira, please… Please please please, more-harder-more-please....” He nuzzles into Akira’s hand despite the pain it’s caused him, and grinds his hips against him desperately.

“Will you be quieter?” He thrusts in hard, angling for his prostate as best he can, and Ryuji’s back arches off the bed, his mouth opening in a silent scream. Yet still he pleads.

“Anything, anything, please… Nng, need more, god… need you...” He’s so sweet like this, Akira could just devour him. Instead, he rewards him, moving to stroke his poor aching cock as he starts to fuck him again, slow and deep. Ryuji bites his lip and shudders in relief, his head falling back against the pillows.

“Mmm, there we go… good boy… my good boy…” Akira purrs. The words, the touch, draw out a little wail of overwhelmed pleasure. He lets go of his hair, lets his hand slide down to Ryuji’s neck and wrap around it. “Maybe I should make you stay quiet, though, hmm?” He squeezes gently, and Ryuji gasps. He digs his fingertips into the sides of his neck, presses the heel of his hand against his trachea with careful force, and feels his body squeezing around his cock in response. A wave of hot pleasure roils inside him and his hips stutter. He might not last if he keeps this up, but god, it’ll be worth it.

Ryuji’s no longer begging, reduced instead to choking, soundless sobs underneath him as Akira goes back to fucking him at a merciless pace. His back arches again and little rivulet of drool escapes the corner of his mouth as he tries in vain to gasp for breath, his deep, dark eyes finally going empty and blank. Akira groans and shivers at the sight. Something in him seems to release suddenly, a tight band of tension falling away from his mind. Ryuji is fully his now, his mind emptied of anything but sensation and pleasure. And it’s beautiful, he’s beautiful. Akira bites his lip and keeps going with a new delight, pounding the pliant, eager body beneath him hard into the mattress before he has to stop suddenly. Ah, it’s too good, he’s too close.

With the air of a god showing mercy to his tormented worshiper, Akira releases his grip, eases off so he can watch his boyfriend tremble and gasp for air. He leans over, presses against his chest and licks away the tears pouring down his cheeks. Helpless little whimpers turn to high, sweet cries when Akira rolls his hips again and reaches down to tweak one hard, tawny nipple. It’s a thing to be savored, this, even as he throbs and aches with the need to come, feeling his cock twitch eagerly with every sound from the boy pinned underneath him. With a low groan and a shudder of delight, he shoves the other boy’s hips roughly upward so he can bury his cock in him even deeper than before. Ryuji has just enough presence of mind left to wrap his legs tight around Akira’s back, keeping his ass angled just so, even as he falls apart completely. Oh but he’s a mess now, a wonderful mess. Akira reaches to pull him up briefly, licks another tear off his cheek, before wrapping his hand around his throat again and squeezing, cutting off his strangled cries. Unable to resist the temptation, he leans over and bites down on Ryuji’s unmarked shoulder, speeding up again as he does, fucking into him hard.

Ryuji bucks and thrashes underneath him and Akira pins him down harder, leaning all his weight on him. He tastes iron blood in his teeth and the salty sweat that’s dripping over his lips and it’s sweet, so sweet. The velvety clench of his body around his cock as he fucks into him, the hard heat twitching against his belly; it’s intoxicating, brilliant, crimson-gilded pleasure inside and out. Ryuji wails, screams, body arching and twisting under him, and here’s a sudden spray of cum hot between their bodies. Only then does Akira slow his hips and release his boyfriend’s throat, leaning back to take in the sight of him. He licks his lips and tastes salt. Ryuji’s gasping and whimpering helplessly; his face flushed bright in contrast with his bleached hair, skin painted with tears and cum and drool. The look in his eyes says he must be so far out of his head he’s sailing into the stratosphere.

Akira smiles down at him kindly, love and pleasure thrumming through him like a drumbeat. He drags a couple of fingers through the sticky mess on Ryuji’s stomach and presses them between his parted lips. Ryuji’s too spent to do more than suckle obediently.

“Good boy,” Akira says softly, and slowly thrusts deep into him again. Ryuji shudders in overwhelmed pleasure. “So good for me. My perfect little slut.” There’s a broken little moan around his finger. “Now don’t think I’m finished with you just because you came…” He lets out another, hungrier whine, body shaking like a leaf. Akira fucks him long and slow, and it’s utterly delicious. “You still want more, don’t you? You want to be used… You want to be filled with my cum…”

He whines and moans around Akira’s fingers again, nodding dazedly, his eyes fluttering shut. With a shiver, Akira stops still before he falls over the edge himself. Underneath him, Ryuji eyes fly open and he grinds against him desperately, begging for more, as though his whole world has narrowed to Akira’s cock inside him. Instead of indulging him, Akira yanks his fingers out of his mouth and yanks hard at his hair, making him squeal.

“Don’t get greedy,” he hisses down at him, grinning fiercely.

He pulls out without warning, and Ryuji lets out a shuddering cry. His legs wrap around the small of his back, trying to pull Akira back down, back inside him. So, so greedy. Something warm, deep in Akira’s chest purrs in satisfaction. Ryuji would probably crawl over coals to get to his cock right now. Akira slaps his thigh hard and lets him go.

“Turn over. Ass up.” It’s cute, how quick he is to scramble to obey, even though he must be aching. So sweet how he presents himself eagerly, pressing his face into the pillow and spreading his legs like a desperate slut. Akira grabs the lube again and quickly drizzles more fluid over that open, twitching hole before plunging three fingers in all at once, curling them to massage the other boy’s sweet spot just like he knows he likes it. The low, desperate groan he can hear, though it’s muffled by the pillow, is a reward in itself.

“That’s better… Good boy...” Akira purrs as Ryuji grinds against his fingers, fucking himself desperately on his hand. “Just can’t get enough, can you?” He can only whine, high and sweet, in response; a sound that makes Akira ache with hunger. _Yes_ _yes yes_ _finish him off_ _n_ _o more teasing._ He pulls his fingers out, grabs his boyfriend’s hips hard enough to dig his nails in, and slams in to the hilt. Beneath him, Ryuji howls. It only spurs him to pull back and thrust again, quick and hard, fingers grasping at him, hungry, all his nerves ablaze under his skin.

Ryuji tries to bury his face deeper in the pillow, to silence his begging, but Akira grabs him by the hair and pulls his head to the side. “I want to see your face,” he growls, leaning over the other boy’s back possessively. “Want to see your face when you come just from my cock inside you...”

“G-god… please…” He’s still sobbing, sniveling as he pleads and moans and squeals with every thrust, all big, hazy eyes and slack, parted lips. He’s even drooling a little. _So cute…_ _So good…_

“Look at how you’re sucking me in, you little slut. You take me like you’re made for it… Made just for me to fuck into the ground…”

“Nng, yes yes yes… god yes… ah!” A sudden deep thrust has his eyes rolled back, words gone from him as he shudders under Akira and comes apart completely. He’s writhing, grinding back against his boyfriend’s cock as he comes without so much as a hand on him, spurting white across the filthy duvet, body quivering, clenching from the force of it--

And suddenly Akira’s coming hard too, and the world is all screaming electric pleasure and blinding white fire oozing up his body to engulf places inside him he never knew could light up like this. For a moment, he thinks he feels a tremble of someone else’s laughter in his throat and in his head as he pours himself into his desperate slut, his willing vessel, his gorgeously unholy altar of sweat and greedy skin.

As the last of it fades into buzzing nerves and languid, weakening muscles, he’s finally, wholly himself again. Finally, the whispers in Akira’s head are gone, replaced with a smug satisfaction that fades into silence. No more lava boiling under his skin, no taunting personas behind his eyes. Just him, Akira, alone in his head with the shuddering, bruised, bleeding body of his best friend impaled on his cock underneath him. Slowly, carefully, he pulls out and off of Ryuji. He shoves the covers away and gathers him into his arms, feeling him shaking as he does. He kisses soft hair and tear-streaked cheeks again and again before tucking that sweet blonde head under his chin and pulling him close, the both of them drifting in the afterglow now, together and comfortable.

Eventually, Akira’s head stops spinning and Ryuji stops trembling. He nestles against Akira’s chest, sighing softly.

“You okay, baby?” he manages to croak out. There’s a low, contented sound from the boy in his arms that echoes in his own chest pleasantly.

“Mm. Sticky…” Ryuji whines. Akira laughs a little and gently untangles himself from the pliant limbs wrapped around him.

“One sec… I’ll get you cleaned up…” he says, sliding out of bed. He grabs a clean blanket from off the couch and tucks it around Ryuji before rummaging through the shelves for sheets and towels and Tae’s hideous-smelling—but terrifically effective—bruise salve. Tomorrow is Sunday. They can sleep late, go to the bathhouse and relax. Maybe more than that if—

He stops as he approaches the bed, and his heart wrenches behind his ribs. Ryuji’s already asleep, long lashes curled on his cheeks angelically, and Akira’s pillow clutched close to his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say, I wanted to write Ryuji getting fucking wrecked. Inspired by some of bodysong's [fab art](https://pliskin.tumblr.com/)! The idea grabbed me by the brain and wouldn't let go, so... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Yell at me on [tumblr!](https://bubblebangbaby.tumblr.com/)


End file.
